


she surrounds

by unicyclehippo



Series: Blue Girls Have The Most Fun [21]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:29:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicyclehippo/pseuds/unicyclehippo
Summary: prompt: verklempt - completely and utterly overcome with emotion
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Series: Blue Girls Have The Most Fun [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824289
Comments: 3
Kudos: 129





	she surrounds

She comes awake, eyes gritty with salt. It’s an unpleasant reminder that she had cried herself to sleep, as is the cold in her gut and the way her chest feels all empty, hollowed out. In the dark—no candles lit, shuttered windows closed—everything looks as it had deep underwater, rolling dark grey forms that come slowly and softly into shapes, nothing looking quite as it is. The corners of desk and chairs are rounded, disappear into the dark. The long form of Yasha is shrouded in a lighter darkness than that which she can summon, but it still sends a thrill of fright into Jester that lingers, plays in that hollowed out space.

It takes a little time for Jester, tired, face sore from sobbing into her pillow, to register the heavy weight of a blanket tucked around her. And an arm slung over her waist, long fingers resting on Jester’s arm. She knows it’s Beau not because she’s the only other one in the room but because even in her sleep she never stays still. Those fingers slip and search over Jester’s skin, rub soothingly at the dip of her wrist in slow, small circles. Calming. Tickling. Ring finger and pinkie slip into the space between Jester’s thumb and forefinger and Beau holds her hand in that uncomfortable way. Shifts behind her, forehead coming to press between Jester’s shoulder and the mattress.

An unfamiliar sensation seeps into Jester like paint drying into a canvas, coating her insides with gold. Not the brittle kind, but molten. Warm and flowing. She feels it, heavy, her body not wanting to move from where she is save to clutch at the blanket with the hand Beau isn’t holding.

The movement is minor but it still sends Beau jolting upright, a snort in her throat coughed out along side a, ‘Huh? Jes?’

Jester catches her hand before she can pull it away. Beau still tries to, and Jester uses the effort to pull herself over so she is facing Beau. Or, since Beau has propped herself up, facing Beau’s shoulder. She leans in, careful to arrange herself so Beau doesn’t put out an eye on her horn, and in the softness of the dark it seems easy to hug her, to fit their legs together, to twine her tail around Beau’s ankle. To be held by her.

Beau’s hand rubs up Jester’s spine. ‘You alright?’

‘Mhm.’ Gold in her veins, her stomach, her lungs. Warm and weighty. Pulling her closer.

‘You were crying,’ Beau says, and Jester feels her gut tug in remembered pain, the agony of crying, of everything in her pouring out, torn out on ragged sobs and salt water. ‘’m sorry, Jes.’

Her arms tighten. Warm and strong. Her hand rubs wide circles, soothing, and her chin comes down to rest on Jester’s head.

Jester turns slightly, brushes a kiss onto her collarbone, the only part of Beau she can reach. Gold paints her lips. The tip of her nose as it drags across Beau’s throat. Her cheek where she hides her head, presses it to the juncture of neck and collar and chest. She can feel Beau’s heart thundering beneath her. The rush of her pulse. And still, Beau just swirls her fingers across Jester’s back, paints an abstract image of gold upon gold upon gold until Jester can see only gold behind closed lids. Jester wouldn’t be able to speak even if she had words, even if she wanted to. She is comfortably crushed beneath the weight of it, beneath the care, beneath the want that strums like gold wire under Beau’s skin and strikes up a canon with Jester as she plays thoughtlessly, fingers slipping into the curls at Jester’s hairline, rubbing at the tension in her neck.

Beau returns to sleep first, Jester not far behind. The hollow of her chest filled in layer by careful layer until Jester is entirely warm, entirely safe in the cradle of Beau’s arms. Entirely loved.

**Author's Note:**

> hi im unicyclehippo on tumblr as well, feel free to swing on by & say hi or send me a prompt x


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